Patron Saint
by peppymint
Summary: On what would have been the last night of his life, Xander receives a visitor.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Greetings from Morocco. Feel a bit guilty about writing this before the last chapter of DoN. However, I figure that will be done too by the next time I get internet access._

_So, it shouldn't matter. This is my first Buffy fic ever. Should probably post it on TtH too. I'll think about that later. I do have an account._

**Patron Saint**

The bloody figure staggered to a nearby wall, unsurprised when his legs gave out beneath him. It wasn't as though the rest of him were in pristine condition. He had really done it this time Xander knew.

Still, the one-eyed man considered. It could be worse (it could always be worse). His gaze shifted to rest on that of his late opponent. He had won. The fiend's victims were both safe and sound, not to mention far away by now. Most likely in the process of happily repressing the events of the evening. The demon hunter almost envied them.

But truly, Xander had no regrets. He had chosen this path when he was little more than a child. Even then, he had known where it would lead. How it would end. A smirk of pride crossed his scarred features. Thirty-nine, that wasn't so bad for someone in his line of work.

For a moment, the man's thoughts drifted. He wondered how long it would take everyone to figure out what had happened to him. He, Buffy, and Willow were not as close as they once were, work taking them to all corners of the globe. But, they were still his girls.

Xander almost laughed at the thought of what they would do to the demonic community in response. And they wouldn't be alone. The mini-Slayers, especially the ones he had found, had always been ridiculously fond of him. Hell, even Dracula might join in the mayhem. Possessive bastard that he was.

A whoosh of flames and the faint scent of sulfur filled the mostly abandoned warehouse, sending the hunter scrambling to his knees. His grip tightening on his trusty battle ax. Not, Xander privately admitted to himself, that he had any chance of winning a potential fight. He was dying, and he knew it. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

As the lone figure stepped out into the admittedly meager light, Xander started in surprise. "D'hoffryn," he murmured blankly. Almost unnoticed, the ax slipped through his fingers to clatter on the floor. It wasn't like it would do any good against the other anyway. To be honest, he was half convinced he was hallucinating.

"Hello Alexander." When the other continued to stare D'hoffryn chuckled lightly. Reaching out one purple hand to rest on the human's forehead. He supposed he couldn't blame Xander for his reaction, given the situation.

Awareness filled the human's single brown eye as the demon lord's power surged through his body, taking away the pain. Xander didn't bother to look down. He knew it was only an illusion. One which would break the moment the other wished.

Xander looked up to meet the demon lord's steady gaze. "Why are you here D'hoffryn?" he asked. Anya aside, it wasn't as if the two of them were close enough to warrant a social visit. Not even a final good-bye.

A pointy grin spread over the other's features. "I would think that obvious Alexander," the demon lord answered raising one brow. "I'm here to offer you a job."

The hunter couldn't help it. He laughed. That had to be one of the most ridiculous things he had ever heard, and he had heard some real doozies. "You're joking right?"

However, D'hoffryn wasn't laughing. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"But why?" Xander asked, appearing totally baffled. He really hadn't the faintest idea. After all these years, all his accomplishments, there was still a part of him who felt like the Zippo. He was nothing special.

The demon lord tilted his head to one side, regarding the human quizzically. "Do you truly not realize how you are viewed White Knight?" he asked using the title Angelus had bestowed long ago. "They still whisper in the dark corners what you did to Azzet." Now that had been brutal, even by his selective standards.

Xander's features hardened. "He hurt one of my girls," the words were spoken coldly. From his perspective, Azzet had gotten off lightly.

"D'hoffryn beamed. "But it was inspired." The boy had talent.

Xander rolled his eyes. "There's only one problem," he pointed out sarcastically. "You demon." He shifted his hand to point at himself. "Me demon hunter." And never the twain shall meet, except when they do. But that was another story. "It's a very simple concept."

"There is nothing preventing you from continuing that calling," D'hoffryn sweetened the deal. "Though of course vengeance demons would be off limits."

Suddenly the hunter grinned. "Taking out the competition?" he teased. That at least was something he could understand. When the demon lord merely shrugged Xander scoffed under his breath. "What would you even call me? The Patron Saint of Barbeque Fork Victims?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of the Patron Saint of Lost Souls myself," D'hoffryn put in sensing weakness.

Xander fell silent, seriously considering the matter for the first time. He didn't bother to ask what would happen if he refused. The man already knew that answer. Just as he knew why D'hoffryn had never asked before. He would have refused.

But now, the hunter knew from his own personal experience that saying yes wouldn't seriously change his personality. And still being able to make a difference. Well, that had some major appeal. "Very well," Xander said softly, making his decision. "I accept."

"D'hoffryn's eyes burned with triumph and he reached out to help the other to his feet. Xander's injuries vanishing as he did so, including the eye he had lost in the battle against the First. "Welcome to the family my boy."

_Part Two_

Several years later, in a city far away, a woman sniffed as she toed off her shoes. How could this have happened? Melissa hadn't been a bad kid. Always back long before her curfew. The entire way to the police station, she had believed, prayed, that they had made a mistake. They hadn't. Her only daughter was dead.

She probably would have broken down then and there had not the pointed sound of someone clearing their throat caused her to spin, one hand flying up to cover her heart. There was someone in her apartment. The woman backpedaled, a look of fear crossing her lovely features. "Who are you?!"

A lop-sided grin crossed the mysterious figure's face. An expression purposely meant to disarm. "Forgive me for scaring you Miss," he bowed. "I am Alexander, Patron Saint of Lost Souls." He almost always went by his full name nowadays. People didn't seem to take him seriously when he shortened it for some reason.

"W-what?" the brunette stuttered, groping for something to throw. "You expect me to believe you're some sort of angel?" Great, this was just what she needed. A psycho. She would have preferred it if he were there to rob her.

Xander laughed, briefly flashing what was now his 'true face.' Features taking on a bluish tint covered in tattoos. "Of course not, I'm a vengeance demon." He didn't enjoy scaring his clients. Sometimes though, it was the only way to get his point across.

As expected, the woman cringed backwards, smacking into the wall. "This isn't real," she frantically tried to convince herself. "It's a dream is all, just a nightmare."

"If this is a dream," Xander said quite reasonably. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Do you?"

Slowly, fear turned to anger, and the woman's dark brown eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "Did you kill my daughter?" Somehow that seemed more plausible than the wild animal explanation the police had given her.

"No," Xander answered seriously. "But that is why I'm here." He took a single step forward. "Tell me, if you had the chance what _would_ you do to her murderer? All you have to do is wish it, and it will be done."

"My ancestor's practiced the blood eagle," she replied immediately. "I know how it was preformed."

A smirk spread across Xander's features. "Nice," he praised. "Both brutal and creative." Not to mention painful. Giles' books had some detailed illustrations. "But it wouldn't kill a vampire."

The woman blinked. "But vampires don't exist," she protested. Still, her mind couldn't help but flash to the holes in Melissa's neck.

"Right," the vengeance demon drawled the single word. "Just like I don't exist."

The brunette paused a moment, considering that. Really, what did she have to lose. "Are they flammable?" she asked. That was what it said in all the old stories.

Xander's smirk widened. "Very."

She nodded decisively. "Then I wish my daughter's killer would fall into an active volcano."

The shadows flickered, the demonic visage returning. "Wish granted."

_Finis_

_Don't ask me where this came from_

_My mind works in odd ways_

_Hope you like it as much as I did_

_There may be a sequel someday_

_Haven't decided yet_

_Until then check out my other works_


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